


What took you so long?

by ArielAquarial



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant Castiel (Supernatural), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Awkward Dean Winchester, Castiel about ready to fight this guy, Dean didn't think things through, M/M, Meet-Ugly, Pining Dean Winchester, Soulmates Castiel & Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArielAquarial/pseuds/ArielAquarial
Summary: With today’s technology, it's easier than ever to find your soulmate — you get to see through their eyes for a full minute every day, after all. But for nearly thirty-four years, Dean has been copying down every detail of his sightings in the hope that one day he would get a clue: a street sign, a unique shop name, where he worked, anything! It was almost like his soulmate didn't want to be found, but Dean’s not giving up...
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 24
Kudos: 298





	What took you so long?

**Author's Note:**

> Surprise! A soulmate AU! Idk if anyone has written one with this premise, but the idea has been in my head since before quarantine and I finally sat down to write it!

Mary Winchester’s pregnancy had been an easy one. Unlike some of the other women she knew, Mary experienced no morning sickness, her feet didn’t swell, her skin didn’t break out, and luckiest of all, none of her hair fell out. There was bad heartburn to deal with, but if that was the worst she had to contend with, she wasn’t going to complain. Heartburn just meant her baby boy would have a full head of hair if the books were anything to go by.

Late at night on January 23rd, Mary Winchester’s water broke. They made their way to the hospital immediately, and at exactly 7:42 am, Dean Winchester was brought into the world. It was quick, and thanks to the epidural, nearly painless.

After the first wave of family and friends had come through with their congratulations, she was finally able to breathe and cuddle with her child, uninterrupted by even her husband who had fallen asleep in the armchair by the window. She was anxious over the new responsibility, but most of all, she wanted—no, needed—to know if Dean would have a soulmate.

She couldn’t help but ask one of the nurses who had come through to give her a dose of painkillers, “Would he see anything?” 

The nurse smiled in sympathy and pointed out that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since his birth. “We won’t know for another few hours. Be patient. Even if he doesn’t see anything, it doesn’t mean much. His soulmate might not be born yet.” 

She only wanted what was best for her son. John had been born a few months before her, so there was never a day that she didn’t have a connection to the love of her life. She wanted that for Dean. Wanted it desperately. 

After a very sleepless night, at precisely one minute before he’d be a day old, everyone stood by to see if he would have a sighting. Dean slept deeply, unaware that his life was about to change forever. 3…2…1… A few things happened at once. Dean’s eyes snapped open and he looked straight ahead with his grey-blue eyes, blinking once or twice, his lips parting in surprise. The nurse began counting to herself, her voice a soft murmur in the background. 

After twenty seconds, the breath Mary had been holding slowly released. John grabbed her shoulder and squeezed, almost to the point of pain. After forty seconds, Mary let out a laugh of joy. John let out a sniffle. After sixty seconds, Dean’s tiny body shuddered and he let out a loud wail, tears streaming down his face. 

Her dream came true. Dean had a soulmate.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

That same day, hours before Dean would get his first sighting, a child slept. 

It was well before dawn when Chuck and Becky were startled from their sleep by a loud thump and frightened cry. They knew right away that it was their middle son, Castiel. While he had always gone down easy enough, he moved around a lot in his sleep and was prone to falling out of his bead. Often, all he needed was a quick cuddle and he was right as rain. The couple glanced at each other, having an entire conversation with their eyes that ended with Chuck sighing and throwing the blankets off of himself.

He bypassed Anna’s room and made the short trek down the hallway to the bedroom his two sons shared. He was greeted with the sign of a bleary-eyed Michael staring at a sobbing Castiel. He crouched at Castiel’s bedside, opening his arms and allowing Castiel to fall into them.

“What happened?”

He sniffled into his father’s shoulder. “I had a nightmare.”

“Poor thing,” he cooed. “Want to talk about it?”

“I was crying, and everything was fuzzy, and a woman was looking at me and I couldn’t control my body—” Castiel’s words were choked off by another sob, and buried his face.

Chuck shushed his son and rubbed his back. “It’s ok, son. It was just a dream.”

He gathered Castiel into his arms and climbed into bed with him, hoping that he would fall asleep soon so he could get back to Becky. He let his eyes slide to the alarm clock that was on Michael's bedside table, and the numbers read 2:34 am. Something tickled the back of his mind, but he was too tired to grasp it. Eyes heavy, he began to drift off, when suddenly, he remembered. Castiel, his sweetest child, had been born at 2:31 am. Moisture suddenly filled his eyes as comprehension dawned. After five years of hoping and praying, Castiel Novak finally had his first sighting.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Though Dean would never admit it, Sammy was usually right. He was right about Dean’s short-lived mustache—it really _did_ make him look like a creep. He was right about the gas station sushi—it _did_ give him food poisoning. Sammy was 100% correct about the county fair game—the damn thing _was_ rigged. And most recently, he was right when he told Dean that it wasn’t unusual for a man in his thirties to still be on the search for his soulmate.

Dean knew the statistics. There were plenty of people who hadn’t found their soulmates by Dean’s age and plenty more who died without ever finding them. It was a big world, after all. While most people found their soulmates after college, some just took longer than others. Typically, there were enough clues from the sightings for people to have a general idea where to find them, some even lucky enough to get exact locations. In this day and age, with technology being what it was, people were finding them earlier and earlier. Even Sam had found Jessica in his senior year of high school.

But not Dean. No, Dean’s soulmate was different.

From the moment he was old enough for his mom and dad to sit him down and explain what a soulmate was, he started obsessing over his sightings. He just _had_ to know who it was. His mom helped him jot down every single detail of the sightings he could tell her in the hope of eventually having enough clues to find them, and he eventually took over the task himself. Dean had a stack of notebooks spanning from the age of eight to the present. Unfortunately, his soulmate was probably the most boring man in the world.

When other children were getting glimpses of public parks or other landmarks, Dean got sightings of the breakfast table. When teenagers were getting sightings that included street names and other obvious clues, Dean was getting sixty seconds of his soulmate’s zero-period calculus class. When other college students were finding their soulmates, he got nothing more than early morning classes and library study sessions. His single-minded focus on his studies was so great that Dean didn’t even know what college the man went to. After college, his sightings became his soulmate’s commute, every day a full minute of morning traffic on some random highway.

It was maddening. He didn’t do _anything._ If he wasn’t at work, he was at home.

Dean wished he had been born in the afternoon, at least then he might be able to find out where his soulmate worked. But no, Dean was stuck with seven forty-two in the goddamn morning, and _nothing_ ever happened that early.

That was the problem with soulmates, though. It wasn’t like you could decide when you were born. Hell, he didn’t even know when his soulmate was getting his sightings. For all Dean knew, his soulmate could be treated to sixty seconds of Dean’s morning shit, or even worse, his nightly wind down time that heavily featured his right hand. It all depended on when the other person was born. Dean couldn’t change his sighting time any more than his soulmate could. He knew the mumbo-jumbo everyone spouted about the _special_ instant connection you got with your soulmate the minute you were born, and how _profound_ it was that the bond spanned over any distance. He hated hearing about how romantic it was to have sightings, how your heart craved your soulmate _so much_ that you saw through their eyes however briefly. He hated it, but god…he craved that connection.

These were some of the things he knew:

His soulmate was a man.

He had an older brother named Michael who liked to kick his shins under the breakfast table.

He had a redheaded sister named Anna who talked his ear off about boys, and Dean knew from the minute he saw her that she would grow up to be a heartbreaker.

His soulmate had strong, capable hands, with nails that were always cut a little too short.

He preferred his commute to be silent, with no music or distractions of any kind. Clearly, his soulmate was a psychopath.

His soulmate had a gold Lincoln Continental that had been running a little rough for the past month.

Judging on the early morning light mirrored in his sightings, his soulmate was in the same time-zone as him, or not too far from it.

And last, but certainly not least: His soulmate was _boring._

Dean snorted to himself. Pot, kettle. Dean wasn’t exactly the life of the party these days, either. Not that he ever was. When his mother died and his dad made himself scarce, Dean took on the role of breadwinner. At the tender age of seventeen, he earned his GED and got his first job at a machining manufacturer. He got up at the ass crack of dawn and worked until three in the afternoon, just in time to pick Sammy up for school. He was in bed by eight pm and woke at four in the morning to do it all again. Now in his thirties, his job title has changed, but he still worked at the same plant he did all of those years ago. He hated it. Everyday, he needed to remind himself that a job was a job. He would be looking for another one if it didn’t take so much effort, but he felt guilty complaining when so many people in the world were unemployed. 

He supposed there might be a good reason they hadn’t found each other yet, and that was because Dean rarely left the damn house either. Needing to be in bed by nine or ten really put a damper on his social life, and more often than not, you could find him on his couch, watching tv and winding down. Obviously, they were made for each other. Tipping his IPA to his lips, he drank to that thought.

That was the point of having a soulmate, wasn’t it? Someone out there was his other, boring, half. The perfect partner, one whose life would perfectly mesh with his. Well, this guy’s life meshed a little too well with his, and that was the damn problem. At least Dean was _trying._ He often glanced at his shop’s logo, a unique design that would be easily findable. He stared at landmarks and street signs out of habit, knowing that if his soulmate tuned in at that exact minute, he’d have a location he could find. Fat load of help _that_ did.

His watch beeped nine, and like clockwork, Dean yawned. With a heavy sigh, he drained the last inch of amber liquid and got up to take a shower and drag his ass into bed, thinking bitterly that yet _another_ day had passed where they hadn’t found each other.

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

His thumb was tapping impatiently against the steering wheel as his car inched forward before coming to _yet another_ complete stop. Traffic was worse than he’d ever seen it before, and he had to assume there was an accident. A bad one, it seemed, since the three-lane highway was completely jammed.

A hand fussed with his tan coat, pulling the sleeve back to reveal a white cuff and a black watch. Seven forty-two, it said.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement in the left mirror. He glanced over just in time to see a car driving on the shoulder, bypassing the long line of cars stuck in traffic. He narrowed his eyes at the sight, but he could do nothing but watch as the car drove past him and hope that he got caught a little further down. Obviously, whoever that was thought they were more important than anyone else on the godforsaken highway. Maybe someone would do something.

Actually… his eyes focused on the license plate and his hand grabbed his phone. With six letters and numbers stuck in his head, he dialed the non-emergency line and—

Dean’s office faded back into view and he was left staring at his laptop and blinking away the strange feeling of coming back into his body. His heart was still beating loudly in his chest, a residual effect of the annoyance his soulmate had felt when he saw the car cutting in front of the traffic. Dean didn’t blame him since it was an asshole move, but he hated the emotional runoff that happened every so often. His soulmate must have been _pissed_ if he was able to feel it through the bond.

He took a few moments to breathe deeply before pulling out his notebook and jotting down the details. Nothing was new, but it was a habit he was unwilling to break. Dean was just starting to write about the asshole driver when he froze. He still remembered the license plate. Oh my god, he still remembered it! Before he could forget, he wrote it down. Three letters and three numbers. Heart beating a mile a minute, he stared down at the first real clue he’s ever gotten. AFG 379. He couldn’t remember what color the license plate was, or what state was written on top, but his soulmate had been so focused on remembering the license plate that it was practically burned into his brain. For once, he had something he could work with.

With only five minutes left in his break, he picked up his phone and called Charlie.

She answered on the second ring.

“Hey! Getting ready for a session, so make it quick.”

“I finally have a clue, Charlie. I might be able to find him.”

She was silent for a moment. “Ok, D&D is officially canceled. Hold on, let me tell the team.”

He cringed. “No, it's fine. I’ll just call you when I’m on my lunch.”

“They’ll get over it! This is way more important than the stupid tower we were working on. I swear, Garth was trying to seduce the dragon, and even _I_ was getting annoyed. I hate bards.”

He let out the breath he had been holding. “Thanks…”

“Now, what happened?”

“He was stuck in traffic this morning. Seemed too bad to be construction, so I think it was an accident. Nothing was happening until some asshole decided to drive past on the shoulder, and since it was a dick move, my soulmate memorized the license plate so he could call the non-emergency line and report the driver.”

“Oh! Give it here. This, I can work with!”

He recited the license plate number to her.

She clicked away on her computer while he waited, hoping she could give him anything. For the first time in his life, he was feeling hopeful.

Too soon, his five minutes were up. “Charlie, I need to get back to work. Can you…”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll let you know asap.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”

Two hours later, he finally got his text.

_It was an Illinois plate. Accident was on southbound I-55 near Chenoa. Good luck!!!_

**o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o.O.o**

Dean quickly found out Interstate 55 was one hundred and ninety-four miles. Sixty-six of which ran through Illinois. As he sat in his hotel room in Chenoa, he made his plan of attack. The accident had been on the southbound side of the freeway, so he knew that his soulmate was heading _toward_ Chenoa. That meant that he had to backtrack north so he could jump on the southbound I-55 and—he rubbed at his forehead, a headache already forming. He’s taken that drive with his soulmate for years, so he was positive he could recognize it if he saw it. Hopefully. If not, he didn’t know what he would do.

He’d been up since five, worrying about the possibility of not finding his soulmate. His mind knew that if things didn’t work out today, he could take another shot at it tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day. He had the whole week off, so he had plenty of time. It wasn’t much, but any chance was better than no chance. Right? It would be hard, and it would probably take some time, but it was worth it.

After a continental breakfast that consisted of watery oatmeal and dry muffins, Dean was on the road. It was hard to know how far north he should drive before he jumped on the highway, but he eventually settled on fifteen miles to account for the time his soulmate had been stuck in traffic. He was bound to recognize _something_.

Mile by mile, his dread grew. Shouldn’t he have seen a familiar billboard yet? Maybe the Target sign they passed a few times a week? Five minutes passed, then ten. He continued scanning his surroundings from the right lane, glad that he was behind a slow-moving eighteen-wheeler when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark smudge. He looked over at a large smoky scrape along the cinderblock wall bordering the highway. Dean slowed down, staring harder, heart in his throat. His soulmate had spent a handful of seconds staring at that a few weeks ago, feeling a pang of sympathy for the poor soul whose car made the marks.

He pulled over to the side of the freeway immediately, put on his hazards, and prayed that highway patrol wouldn’t drive past him. The absolute last thing he needed was a ticket when he was on a time crunch. His watch told him it was 7:35 am, so there was a huge chance he could see his soulmate pass him on the highway. He sat there, staring hard at the mass of cars, trying to make out a blur of gold in the mess.

Minutes passed without sight of the Continental, and before he knew it, he was no longer in his car.

Like every morning, his soulmate was driving down the interstate. The very same interstate that Dean was camped on, just waiting to see him drive by. He wished the guy was paying attention to the surrounding area, but like the good driver Dean knew he was, the man was steadily watching the traffic in front of him.

For the first time in his life, Dean spent his sighting wishing it was over. The last thing he wanted was to miss the car driving by because he was too busy watching it happen through his soulmate’s eyes. He could feel it drawing to a close just as the Target sign whizzed past him. Suddenly Dean was back in the Impala, staring at his steering wheel.

If he just passed the Target, then that meant his soulmate must have already passed him because he sure as hell hadn’t made it that far! He checked his blind spot and zoomed back onto the freeway, nearly cutting off a Chevy truck.

He drove south, taking Baby faster than he would normally. The next few minutes brought him the to Target sign he had been on the lookout for, and then a gas station he’d never even seen before. It was twenty minutes before he gave up and headed back to his hotel. When he was finally in his room, he threw himself onto his bed and groaned, fighting the disappointment. Dean couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed the car pass! He had been looking the whole time, not even pausing to sneeze. He _knew_ he probably wouldn’t find the man on the first day, but it still stung.

Day two didn’t end up any better. He was stopped on the side of the freeway, at exactly the same spot his sighting showed the day before, the red Target sign looming over him. He waited for his sighting on bated breath, eager to see through his soulmate’s eyes. Finally, at seven forty-two, it started. At this point, Dean knew this stretch of highway like the back of his hand, which was why he knew immediately that his soulmate had yet again passed him. When the minute was up and he was back in his body, he slammed his hands onto the steering wheel in frustration. Even if he gunned it into the fast-moving traffic and drove like a madman, he still wouldn’t be able to catch up. Of course, today would be the day his soulmate left five minutes early.

On the third day, Dean woke with a stress headache and as the hours stretched, it didn’t get any better. He scowled through his breakfast and his drive to the highway, cursing the fact that it would be another few hours before he could take another dose of Tylenol. The Target sign loomed in the distance, mocking him as he pulled onto the shoulder and practically punched his hazards lights on. He swore at himself and gave Baby a pat on her dash in apology. The last thing he needed was for Baby to get offended and give him problems when he was so far from home. She was a sensitive woman and deserved only gentle touches.

Oh god, he was going crazy.

He groaned and checked his watch, desperate to get his sighting over with so he just go back to his hotel for a good sulk. Maybe binge some daytime drama shows and try to get in a second helping of breakfast. Dean would know in a few minutes, anyway, whether or not the day would be a bust.

Dean typed a quick message to his brother, checking in and giving him a brief rundown of today’s plan. Sam had been super invested once he learned of the scheme, although he wasn’t a fan of Dean’s methods. According to him, just waiting and hoping to see a car he _might_ recognize as his soulmate was one of his dumbest ideas yet. What if someone else had the same car? What if he was wrong about the make and model? “Why can't you just take out a personal ad in the paper? That’s what most sane people do!” Charlie was much more supportive. If his plan didn’t pan out, she would work her magic and print him out a list of all Lincoln Continentals owned within the entire state, and well… he supposed he could just visit every single one of them until he found his soulmate. If that didn’t work, he’d just resign himself to being alone forever.

Distracted by his thoughts, his sighting took him by surprise.

Impatient thumbs were tapping on the steering wheel as he drove a little too close to the car in front of him for Dean’s comfort. He flicked on the blinker, checked his blind spot, and changed lanes so he could move around the slow driver. His soulmate let out a relieved sigh as he was able to accelerate to match the other vehicles.

He was driving in the right lane, scanning the road before him, always vigilant for any dangers. Dean could feel his sighting coming to a close, and once again, it would be no use to him. Just as he could feel his final seconds, a black smudge on the divider passed in the corner of his soulmate's eye.

Dean was back to his own body, and already his heart was racing. He whirled around in his seat, looking at the oncoming cars. If his soulmate just passed the smudge, that meant he had a little less than a minute before his car would pass the Target sign. Dean threw his car in drive and craned his neck to watch the cars driving past him.

His heart beat loudly in his chest as he waited, poised to go the moment he caught a glimpse of familiar gold. Thirty seconds passed, then forty, and still no sign. He was going to give himself a heart attack if he didn’t calm down, but he didn’t have the time. Any second now, his soulmate’s car would drive past him and he just _had_ to catch up.

Finally, an old golden Continental flew past him with a dark-haired man in the driver’s seat. Without a moment’s hesitation, he gunned it, using the shoulder to build up enough speed to merge as quickly as he could. By the time he pulled in front of a little old lady in a Toyota, he was four cars behind the man and gaining. He knew he was driving like an absolute madman, but his soulmate was less than three cars in front of him and he wasn’t about to let him go.

Three cars quickly became two, and suddenly, he was behind his soulmate. No matter how many times he imagined finding his soulmate this way, he never once considered what would happen after. How was he supposed to get his soulmate's attention? He couldn’t exactly pull next to the guy and start yelling out his window. His very helpful brain gave him only one solution: honk at the man.

He tapped on his horn gently, giving his soulmate a quiet little beep. He could see the man’s head incline towards the rearview mirror and pause. Dean knew he was being stared at, probably _glared_ at, but he needed the man to pull over now. Once they were face to face, he would be able to explain.

Dean tapped the horn a little harder, and this time, his soulmate glanced around to check his blind spots. Again, he honked lightly, tapping out a pattern of beeps for the car in front of him. He could feel the confused stares coming from the cars around him, but they weren’t who he was concerned with.

Maybe it was because he figured out Dean was trying to get him to pull over, or he was just trying to get away from Dean, but his soulmate threw on his blinker and changed lanes. Dean followed him. He changed lanes again, and Dean followed him again. Finally, he was on the offramp, and Dean’s heart was beating too quickly for his chest to contain it. He felt ready to explode with a mix of hope and nerves, both ready and _not_ ready to meet his soulmate.

He followed him off the freeway, through a turn, then another, and finally into the parking lot of a business building. His soulmate parked, and so did he. Suddenly, he wasn’t ready to get out of the car and meet the man. What if he didn’t like Dean? What if he was one of the people who shunned the idea of soulmates? What if he purposefully wasn’t trying to find him and Dean just hadn’t taken the hint. What if—

A knuckle rapped on his window, startling him out of his spiral. The eyes that met his were deep blue and narrowed in righteous fury. He gulped as he continued to stare, unable to look away as the man seemed to be working himself into a fit.

Dean moved to open the door and step outside, hoping the guy would give him a few seconds to explain before he punched him. His soulmate took a step back, fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically, poised for a fight. Dean understood. He obviously messed up and now he wanted to kick his own ass for being so stupid. If some asshole honked and tailgated him all the way to work, he’d want to kick the guy's ass too.

His soulmate was still glaring. “What is the meaning of this? If you are attempting some sort of insurance scam, I’ll have you know that—”

“No!” he interrupted quickly, taking a half step towards the man with his palms raised. God, it was hard to come up with a clear reply when he was met with such an intense gaze. The man was attractive, even with the glare, with full lips and a strong jawline. He was almost as tall as Dean, with broad shoulders and thick arms. “I’m not trying to scam you, I just… I’m Dean Winchester.”

His soulmate's eyebrow cocked up. “I still haven’t decided against calling the police, Mr. Winchester. If this isn’t a scam, then why are you harassing me?”

He gulped. Harassment? Shit. How could he have fucked things up so badly? “I wasn’t trying to harass you, I was just trying to get you to pull over.”

His soulmate gestured to his car. “And why is that? You didn’t rear-end me, nor is there anything wrong with my car. If there was, there are better ways to relay that information.”

“No, it's not that. I—uh…”

He scoffed when Dean couldn’t continue. “If you’re still in the parking lot by the time I get to the security desk, I _will_ report you and they will be removing you from the property.” And then he was walking away, that familiar coat thrown over his forearm and a walk that would intimidate _anyone_ into getting the fuck out of his way.

Dean watched him leave, aware that he was letting his soulmate slip away. No, he _wasn’t_ going to let his soulmate get away from him. Not after all he had done to find him. Not for anything. “Wait!” He took off at a run, and the man stopped at the sound of Dean’s heavy footfalls. When the man turned to glare some more, Dean opened his mouth and said the first thing that came to him. “You’re my soulmate!”

The man’s lips parted and he looked at Dean in surprise. Clearly, that was the last thing he expected Dean to say. “I must have misheard. What did you say?”

“I’m your soulmate.” He repeated, quieter this time. “That’s why I was trying to get you to pull over. I promise.”

He shook his head. “Did Meg put you up to this?”

“No one put me up to this. I’m your soulmate.”

His soulmate continued to stare at him, “If you’re pulling this so I don’t call security…”

“No, I'm not.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“You don’t recognize me?” he asked weakly. His soulmate should have had at least one sighting where Dean looked in a mirror or caught a family photo in passing. _Something._ Surely the universe wouldn’t hate them that much.

“I was born at 2:33 in the morning. The only sightings I’ve ever gotten stopped when I was a teenager. The only reason I know I still have a soulmate is because I sometimes wake up after having some very odd dreams.”

The more he talked, the worse Dean felt. Before his mom died, he used to stay up until three in the morning some nights, but after… he had to get the job to support his family, and left the life of late-night videogames and sleepovers behind. He hadn’t stayed up past midnight for years. “I swear to you, I’m not lying.”

“Tell me something then, something my soulmate would have seen.”

“Michael and Anna are your siblings. I used to see you guys eat breakfast in the mornings before school. Anna would always complain that your parents bought plain cheerios and not the honey nut ones.”

His soulmate's lips parted and his eyes darted away, almost like he forgot how breakfast with his siblings used to go. “Oh.”

Dean took a hopeful step forward. “And, uh… your dad always handed you the funnies and you two would read the paper together. Michael always said it was lame, but I think he was jealous...”

This time, it was his soulmate who took the step towards him. “I used to love that…”

He continued, pulling his fondest memories. “Uh, you hated your high school calculus teacher and thought he was an idiot. You made all your notes on post-it's in college because you hated the idea of writing or highlighting in textbooks, even if you owned them. You constantly drum against the steering wheel even though you don’t listen to music or anything. Is that a nervous twitch, or something? And I’ve always wanted to know why you never listen to the radio...”

“I don’t like to be distracted.”

Dean smiled at his dazed look. “What’s your name? I need to know.”

“Castiel.”

“Castiel,” he repeated reverently. “Can I call you Cas?”

“I suppose my soulmate is allowed to give me a nickname…”

Dean’s heart soared. “I’m so happy I found you.”

“Well, then. I only have one thing to say to that.” He took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes at Dean. “What took you so long?”

Dean burst into laughter at his words, the situation, his joy, he didn’t know. The laughter just bubbled out until his eyes were wet with tears. He took a moment to wipe them away and just smiled at Cas. He knew he looked like an idiot, but god, he was just so happy to have finally found him. “I live in Kansas, Cas. I’ve been trying all week. The only reason I knew where to look was because of that accident a week and a half ago.”

“How did you…?”

“You got mad at some asshole driver and memorized their plate. I had a friend help me find the plate, and since this is the only stretch of highway in Illinois that had an accident that bad, and at that exact time...”

Cas glanced at the building and then at his watch. Decision made, he approached Dean, standing only a foot from him. “I would have tried to find you, but I never had anything to go by. When you were young, the sightings would wake me up in the middle of the night. I hated them. When they stopped, I was relieved… Then they never came back. I thought I lost you. If it wasn’t for the strange dreams...”

He gulped and put his hand on Cas’s forearm, hoping he wouldn’t mind. Every time he’d imagined touching him paled in comparison to the warmth of a real person under his fingers. There was actual muscle and bone, and the nervous flutter in his belly reminded him that he wasn't dreaming. Cas was _real._ “Thank god I have some fucked up dreams, right?”

“One of these days you’ll have to explain the one about the autocannibalistic pie.”

Dean chuckled. “What? Are you telling me that a pie wouldn’t want to eat itself? Pie is delicious.”

“It never crossed my mind that today would be the day I’d meet you. I would have put on a better suit.”

Dean looked him up and down for the first time. Sure, the suit didn’t fit the greatest, but in Dean’s eyes, he looked fantastic. “I like it.”

The shy smile that graced Cas’s features was one Dean wanted to see every day. “I’d like to hug you if that’s alright.”

Dean didn’t need to be told twice. Before he could blurt out an embarrassing ‘God, yes!’, He closed the space between them and went for Cas’s shoulders just so Cas would be forced to wrap his arms around his waist. He felt safe and warm, and never wanted to let go. Soon, Cas would have to disappear inside the building, and Dean would have to go back to his hotel room, but for now, Dean could just hold him and tell himself that everything would work out.

They already had some hurdles in front of them. Cas and Dean lived in different states. They had friends, family, and coworkers that would miss them if they left. _Someone_ would have to uproot their lives so they could be together. But watching his soulmate walk away and disappear into the building ten minutes later, Dean couldn’t help but think that he’d do anything to make that happen. Maybe uprooting his life was exactly what he needed. Perhaps Cas was his ticket out of his boring life and the job he’s been stuck in since he was a teenager. A slow smile curved his lips as he imagined what a fresh start could look like.

The more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Sam was off living life in California with his soulmate, so it wasn’t like he’d be leaving him behind, and Charlie preferred to be in front of a computer anyway, so it would be no skin off her back to switch to skype calls. His boss could go fuck himself, and that was all he thought on that matter. With more than fifteen years of experience, ten of those being a manager, he’d have no problem finding a job. Hell, he’d be a barista at Starbucks if it meant he could leave the machine shop. Maybe Cas would be his sugar daddy for a little while.

Dean walked back to his car and sat in the driver's seat, feeling more excited for the future than he’s ever been. The feeling of hope grew in his chest as he stared at the digits Cas had put in his contact list. Somehow, he knew things would work out for the better.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment and let me know what you think?


End file.
